


I Die, You Die

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Mötley Crüe, The Dirt (2019)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:48:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29034201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: "Only you, Mick." Nikki said, laying down and resting his head on Mick's shoulder.
Relationships: Mick Mars/Nikki Sixx
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	I Die, You Die

Mick couldn't help his thoughts, couldn't help his scared thoughts.

 _'What if he'd died?'_ Mick didn't know. He didn't know! He couldn't help but not know what would've happened if Nikki had died that night, alone and with only those useless druggies that he surrounded himself with. Mick bit the edge of his thumbnail, and hated that he didn't know. 

In the end, Mick doubted that he would be the same. To the outside world, Mick might've been able to make it, but inside? He would've fallen apart. Life would have been impossible if those paramedics hadn't managed to do the impossible, and that scared Mick beyond anything else. 

Nikki, oblivious yet so, so knowing, was smoking by the window sill. His eyes, smoky and green, were distant. For all anybody knew, Nikki was asleep, but there was a stiffness to his shoulders that suggested he was going back to a place far beyond the land of the reality and living. 

The idea, twisted as it might've been, of Nikki not being there anymore, of being six feet underneath instead of sitting, perched on the sill like a bird, made Mick feel desperate and lonely. He sighed. "Are you coming to bed, or are you going to sit and weep all night?" Mick asked, and his emotions made his voice hoarse and rough, like he was mad when all Mick wanted to do was live in a fucking world where he didn't have to worry about the one person who loved him just as much as Mick did dying. 

"Fuck off." Nikki said, but he just sounded sad, lonely. There were tangles in his hair and he raised his hand and stared at the old burn scar in the middle of it from when his mother had shoved it onto the stove burner. Nikki, exhausted and pale, was still the most beautiful person that Mick had ever seen. 

Mick would never say it aloud. "Come on." He beckoned. 

Without a word, Nikki stood up and walked into the bathroom. He did not turn on the light. The water turned on, shut off a moment later. Nikki walked out without his cigarette, and crawled into bed. His makeup was smeared. There was a bloodied welt on his neck. 

"Only you, Mick." Nikki said, laying down and resting his head on Mick's shoulder.

And, silent as he raised and twisted his hand into Nikki's hair, stroking it with a gentleness that neither of them could explain, Mick couldn't help but think that, if the bassist beside him had died, then Mick would've, too. 


End file.
